The ground shuddered, settling, as more of the roof caved beneath the weight of the smallshipthat had fallen on it.
The parachute drifted to the side, partially obscuring the dark ship. Smoke rose from the edges in thick plumes. Rogues chittered and cried; some sounded hollow, as they roared from below the ground, in the cracks they had fallen into as Lucien had stretched himself thin with his Stella.
When the dust settled and the air grew still and the ship’s thrum was silenced, only then did Rhyden push up off her. His palm settled on her hips, fingers soothing against her flesh, before he pulled away and stood.
Lucien helped her up, his arms under her shoulders. Cyrus and Auren stood, too, and Cyrus wrapped his arm around her.She felt his shaky, stifled exhale as he crushed her to his chest. He smelled like blood and berries.
They all stared at the smoking ship. Her home was… in ruins. Though it already had been. A house of ghostly memories.
Her bones thrummed, the only warning before there was a faint chitter, the scratch of claws. Then a lowlevel Rogue tore through the red mist.
It leaped, right toward her and Rhyden.
Rhyden pushed her out of the way. His gun was on the ground, dropped in the chaos. He couldn’t reach it in time, and on instinct, her hand shot out. A pulse of blue light rushed from her veins and shot out toward the Rogue. When the light met the rock-like monster, it shrieked, shuddering before it fell. It was dead.
Rhyden’s nostrils flared as he bent for his gun, then reached for her, spinning her roughly to face him. The action made her head pound anew.
"You saved me," Rhyden said, voice a gruff rasp.
She could only stare up at him. "Of course, I saved you." It was all she could manage.
There was a loud hiss, and the group whipped around to the caved-in house and the ship.
The dark fabric of the parachute rippled, then, from beneath it, a figure emerged. He wore a black spacesuit, a sleek helmet on his head. He reached up, touching a latch on the side, before he tugged it off and threw it to the ground, where it clattered down rubble and brick.
Kit’s brown hair was matted with sweat, cheeks flushed red from being in the suit. The grey smoke from the ship mingled with the red fog as he stood tall there, on top of her ruined home.
Rhyden raised his gun.
Vesperin gasped, feet taking her toward Kit. Their eyes locked; neither could look away.
Rhyden grabbed her arm. "Don’t."
"He will not hurt me." Her voice felt weaker now. Adrenaline waned. She felt herself thinning, like a Star burned through too quickly.
It could have been a trick of the fog, but she swore Kit’s cheeks were wet with tears.
He stumbled down, but the roof was dangerous. He paused, head scanning.
The air burned, and she coughed, feeling turned inside out as it made her belly tug. Auren gripped her arm, steadying her—and keeping her from recklessly going to Kit, where wreckage kept him trapped on the roof.
Vesperin struggled weakly, vision shimmering with tears. "Please," she whispered to her Soulbonds. They had vowed to protect her. Kit was hers. He would not hurt her.
Vines curled along Lucien’s arms. One thickened like a branch, as it shot from his hand, acting like a staff to keep him steady as he walked. His eyes were glassy. How much Stella could one use before they ran dry? Fear filled her.
He walked toward the house before Vesperin could stop him. Her gut twisted with anxiety as Lucien met her eyes. "I will get him for you." Because even the… Phoenix was not invincible. Even an experiment could not safely get down from the wreckage of the house.
"Lucien… wait." The words were lost in the wind.
But Lucien was too selfless for his own good, which drew her to him, even when her suppressed memories didn’t know they were fated.
Rubble blocked his path, fallen walls and broken shingles jutting from the ground.
Rogues trilled, heavy footfalls behind them, growing closer. The fight was not over, but she was so tired already.
Cyrus turned, blowing her a kiss. "Don’t worry, doll. We’ll get out of here together, and I’ll give you a foot rub." His tone wasn’t convincing. The first midlevel Rogue to break through the fog dropped immediately with a squeal. Cyrus shuddered as red glimmered around him, painting him neon. "That tastes like fucking slime." He gagged, but didn’t stop as two lowlevels thundered forward. They dropped, too.
Auren was a blur as he slashed his scythe through the Rogues, cutting down one after the other.
